Last Train
by TMBlue
Summary: Post HBP: Mr Granger has a chat with Ron on Platform 9 3/4.


_**A/N:** Returning after a writing absence (work has been insane!) with this little oneshot warm up. I actually have an idea for a follow up chapter, and I'm sure I'll get to it eventually. For now, this stands on its own. Hope you enjoy!_**  
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**Last Train**

_**7th June, 1997...**_

The noises billowing around the train tracks behind him deafened his thoughts of running. Grabbing her hand and running as fast and as far away as they could go. If only Harry was invisible. Free. Unrestrained by responsibility. By always being the one. But then would it really have made it easier, just to go? With his knowledge of the world around him, his conscious would surely weigh against any attempts to hide from the truth...

His chest had been constricted since he'd let her go the night of Dumbledore's funeral, holding her in an embrace that surely surpassed any they'd shared before that. He'd climbed up to bed to lie still and awake atop his quilt, imaging he could hear and still feel the beat of her heart.

And now, here he stood, on Platform 9 ¾... parting ways from her indefinitely, in mere moments. And yet he had lost her in crowds, saying goodbyes without actually saying them, to people who'd possibly never know what had happened to the three of them. What they'd tried to save.

And it was there, on the platform, hands stuffed into his pockets as he took a moment to be alone, holding back each breath to avoid the unavoidable convulsing ache of separation from her, that he found himself face to face with Mr Granger, several paces away and smiling gently in Ron's direction.

"Ron!" he called out, cheerfully, beckoning for Ron to come closer. And Ron offered Mr Granger a small, slightly nervous smile as he approached.

"Sir?"

"Could I speak to you for a moment?" Mr Granger asked softly, noting Ron's height increase as he lifted his eyebrows up, tilting his head ever so slightly back to address the boy who was now actually taller than he was.

Ron's stomach flipped irrationally, at the range of possibilities for Mr Granger needing to speak with him about anything at all. But he moved yet another step closer, a reasonable distance for a personal conversation amidst the crowds, and Harry's voice faded behind him as his own parents greeted and embraced their might-as-well-be son.

"Where's Mrs Granger?" Ron asked, glancing around.

"Made a stop by the loo, I'm afraid," Mr Granger said, "but she'll be along."

"Okay..." Ron trailed off, swallowing. "What did you want to speak with me about?"

"It's funny, when Hermione was younger, she didn't have a lot of friends that she cared to spend time with. But the few who came to the house, we always knew quite well - neighbours or cousins, once a girl from her class at her primary school. And it seems, though I feel we know you and Harry quite well from her letters and summers, I wish we'd had the chance to have you over to the house, get to know you both a bit more personally." Sighing lightly, he shook his head and continued before Ron had the chance to add anything. "But never mind that. It's great to see you, and your family."

"Thank you," Ron tried to smile. "Nice to see you as well."

"You've been a great friend to Hermione," Mr Granger continued, in a slightly lower voice, studying Ron a bit too intently for his liking. He felt odd, under the scrutiny of a man he barely knew, but yet, someone so close to one of his best friends. To the girl he- "And what I wanted to ask you, why I wanted to speak with you alone... Can you promise me something?" Mr Granger continued, catching Ron's eyes very seriously.

"I can try, sir," Ron found himself nearly whispering, anticipating what Mr Granger could possibly ask of him. Something about their shared moment of silence and Mr Granger's brief nod of acceptance filled the air with a tension that wasn't entirely unpleasant. And Ron found that, in that moment, he saw Mr Granger in a way he'd never expected. Someone slightly lost, out of his depth, unsure of his future. Of Hermione's. He didn't share their world, and how strange to have a daughter who, from the age of eleven, had slowly begun to belong to something he could never fully understand.

And then, at last, sucking in a slow breath, Mr Granger sought a confidence with Ron that he'd never guessed. That nearly stunned him motionless...

"I know the dangers you all have faced. I might not understand them fully. I might not be informed completely. But I know. I've seen her fear and heard her in her nightmares. And I know it isn't over. I've sensed it for a while now, that something big was happening, and that she'd be at the centre of it. I could never ask her to stop. I know it wouldn't do any good. I know her well enough to be sure of that," and he almost chuckled, though Ron could not reciprocate, unable to fathom Mr Granger's words entirely. And then he finally asked it, the thing he'd called Ron over to say... "But... look after her, will you? I know I can't ask you to keep her safe. You can't possibly promise... but-"

Ron's lips parted, shocked. He studied Mr Granger's sincere features, graying fringe along his temples, more wisps of silver peppered through short, tightly curled brown hair. Of course, Hermione had gained so much from her father. His eyes, his hair... his courage.

And before Ron could answer, Mr Granger's lips turned up in a small smile.

"Ron, you love her?"

Ron gasped in a sharp, short breath at the directness of Mr Granger's question, and he felt his ears ignite. Surely he hadn't been _that _obvious...

"You _care _about her," Mr Granger corrected, very clearly catching on to Ron's discomfort.

"Of course!" Ron answered easily, relieved to be able to be so truthful, to speak with confidence about something he was sure of. Not that he wasn't sure that he... loved Hermione. But to admit it, for the first time ever, to her father, here on the platform, with his heart in his throat and his feet going numb... "I'd do anything for her," he continued, strengthened by the look of kindness and understanding on Mr Granger's face. "I hope she knows that. I... I want _you _to know that."

"I do know," Mr Granger assured him, nodding gently, speaking so softly that they could have dropped away from the world around them, been the only two men left standing there.

And then, it came so easily. The words he needed to say. Because he'd known them, really. Though he'd never stopped to think of what would happen, how he'd react in such a time of crisis, he knew the truth as he knew his own name.

"I _promise_," he said then, firmly and with so much confidence. "I really do. I'll keep her safe. I'll be with her. I'll do everything I can... I..."

He swallowed, unable to continue, as a lump lodged in his throat. The very real possibility of facing something that could kill them became forefront in his mind, and he felt that if he didn't escape this conversation soon, he was likely to make a fool of himself, for his eyes to water in front of Hermione's father...

"You're a remarkable man, Ron," Mr Granger said, so kindly. And Ron felt himself blush at such a meaningful statement. Not only had Mr Granger given him a powerful complement... but he'd also referred to him as a man. No longer a childhood friend of his daughter. No longer someone without responsibility, carefree to live under the protection of his parents.

And Ron could not speak his thanks just yet, overwhelmed.

"Come and visit us when it's all over, yeah? When you've chucked school and... well, I'm sure you know the rest." Mr Granger smiled, and Ron was once again left feeling as though this man knew far more than perhaps Ron could even have guessed... than even Hermione could have.

And he was struck with Mr Granger's choice of words, with the familiar way in which he spoke to Ron, as if they were old friends. And after a short pause, Mr Granger nodded and turned to walk away, heading off into the crowds, likely to find Hermione and take her home. But Ron could not let him leave without expressing something resembling how he felt... if it could ever be possible for him to really do so.

"Mr Granger?" he called, and the older man turned back to face Ron with another smile.

"Ted will do just fine."

Ron chuckled shortly, another wave of tension lifting. And yet another seemed to subside weightlessly as Hermione's laughter resounded through the crowd behind Mr Granger, coming from someplace he could not see.

"Thank you," Ron began, "for... I dunno, trusting me. For what you said about me. I don't really... I don't know what to say, sir."

Mr Granger shook his head, still smiling.

"You don't need to say a thing. We'll see you soon, I expect."

And with a final nod, Mr Granger turned round again and stepped into the crowd, searching for his wife and Hermione.

Ron turned to vanish out of the way, leaning against a nearby pillar of bricks, lost in thought. He chewed his lip, staring down at his own feet as he stuffed his hands back into his pockets. And he couldn't have been sure how long he stood there, silent in his thoughts and swallowing past the lump that remained in his throat.

"Ron?"

And then he saw her eyes, her head ducking to meet his where they remained lowered, head bent over, slouching awkwardly...

He smiled as she looked curiously up at him, inches away from him, one of her feet actually wedged between his where she had moved into his space to duck below his head to get his attention. And he found that without thinking of it, without understanding why, he was suddenly laughing, right arm locking around Hermione's waist to pull her in for a hug. She gasped so lightly he wasn't sure she'd actually done it. But then, her own chuckles joined his as she clasped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest as his chin lightly rested against the top of her head. And he closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of warmth and complete comfort in the feel of her against him.

Voices surrounded them, his parents and Harry, people coming to break them apart and take them their separate ways. But with his heart beating against her cheek and her fingers dancing almost nervously against his spine, he was sure he could not only keep his promise to her father, to protect her, but that they'd both be alright, together. All three of them. As long as they always had each other.


End file.
